


Pip Pirrup Loves Butters

by DarkGardenia



Series: Everyone Loves Butters [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Part of a polyamory-verse but can be read on its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkGardenia/pseuds/DarkGardenia
Summary: After tragedy strikes the town of South Park, Butters can feel someone calling to him, tugging on his heart. Who could it be?





	Pip Pirrup Loves Butters

It was a silently acknowledged truth that weird shit happened in South Park fairly regularly. Giant robots, monstrous guinea pigs, talking poo, it had all become so standard that the citizens remained unfazed, going about their days as normal while chaos reigned around them. That was also the general reaction when, one day, five students from South Park High accidentally opened a portal to hell in the local playground, one of them falling into the fiery chasm to his death. Sure, it was sad that Kenny McCormick was dead, but what could you do, that was just how it was living in a quiet little mountain town. Sometimes children get swallowed up by an endless pit of hellfire, c'est la vie. In retrospect he really should’ve known better than to join the goth kids in one of their satanic experiments, but they’d seemed cool enough, if not a little morbid and bleak.  
  
Butters Stotch was laying awake a week after the portal first appeared, his room bathed in the ominous red light being emitted by the hellfire. For days he’d been struggling to sleep, plagued by the feeling that someone was calling to him. He wasn’t hearing a voice, exactly, but he could sense whoever it was gently pulling him towards them. Where they were, he didn’t know, but given the timing he could hazard a guess that it was coming from the otherworldly gateway in the middle of the park. He’d ignored it easily at first, distracted by the loss of his dear friend, and a moderate concern about what might spill forth across the devil’s threshold. However, as the town quickly moved on and life resumed around the ghastly new local feature, it was almost like the pull got stronger. It was worse at night, when he was alone with nothing but his thoughts and the pulsing red glow. In those moments he swore he could almost hear someone, with a sweet honeyed voice, calling out to him gently, coaxing him to leave his warm bed and venture into the cold night.  
  
He knew it was a bad idea, even as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and curled his cold toes into the plush carpet. The air was frigid, with the fiery ambience that had settled over the whole town offering a stark, unsettling contrast. He shivered, not entirely because of the chill, as he grabbed his jacket and boots, pulling them on over his pajamas. This was such a terrible idea and would surely end badly, but still he crept stealthily from his room and down the stairs, being extra cautious not to wake up his parents. No doubt his father would be terribly displeased to see him out and about at this hour.  
  
The frost bit at his ears and nose, quickly turning them bright red, as he made his way out the front door and onto the silent street. It was much icier out here than it had been inside, and he desperately wished he’d thought to bring a hat or scarf, but there was no way he would risk sneaking back inside to get them. He would have to push on into the night, and anyway, the stinging pain in his extremities soon turned to a dull numbness, allowing him to push his discomfort to the back of his mind.  
  
The pull was stronger than ever as he approached the desolate park, and he swore he could now clearly hear a voice calling his name.  
  
_“Leo…”_ His name danced on the wind around him, _“… Leo…”_  
  
It was a whispering voice, sweet, appealing, and somewhat familiar, but so soft and low that he couldn’t quite make out who it was. Despite the terrifying circumstances, the voice set him at ease and he quickly scampered across the snowy playground to take a seat on one of the two swings. The chains creaked slightly as they moved, breaking the silence ominously; He kicked his legs playfully and hummed a little tune softly to himself. The air was heavy and still, not even insects daring to venture this close to the hellish portal.  
  
_“Hello Leo.”_  
  
Someone sat down on the other swing, though he hadn’t seen or heard them approaching. He knew who had been calling to him now, he’d have known that voice anywhere. It was kind of hard to forget that cute British accent.  
  
“Phillip,” He greeted, turning to smile at the unearthly apparition swinging gently back and forth next to him, “I’ve missed you.”  
  
Butters and Phillip, or Pip as he had been known, had a tumultuous history together. While they had gotten on well as children, often playing together while their parents were busy, Pip’s lack of popularity had affected their friendship later in life. It’s not that Butters necessarily disliked the other boy, but it’s hard for kids to go against the crowd and often his own desire to be liked took precedent over his tentative friendship with Pip. They had started to reconnect in secret when they were nine, swiftly becoming close friends. It had been the first time Butters felt anything for another boy, spending lazy afternoons watching movies with Pip, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Sometimes they held hands, sweaty fingers laced together as they nervously avoided eye contact.  
  
Then, tragically, Pip had been killed by the Mecha-Streisand, leaving Butters alone and confused about the exact nature of their friendship and the direction it’d been heading in. With their closeness kept hidden from everyone, he had no one to turn to, and so had no choice but the close the book on Pip, the final chapter unwritten.  
  
_“I’m so sorry I left you alone Leo,”_ Pip stood and moved to kneel in front of Butters, resting his cheek on the others knees, _“I tried to get back to you sooner, but it’s not easy leaving hell."_  
  
Butters leaned forward and brushed a hand across Pip’s ghostly cheek, sobbing as he realised he could touch him, “No, it’s ok Phillip, don’t apologise. I’m just so happy to see you.”  
  
Pip threw his arms around Butters then, both of them openly crying as they embraced, fingers clenched in the fabric of their clothing almost as if they were trying to merge into one being. They didn’t need to speak any more, knowing what the other was thinking, feeling the ending to their story finally being written around them.  
  
They stayed there, wrapped around each other, for what felt like a millennia, until an awkward cough cut through the air and a dark figure stepped out from the shadows.  
  
“Phillip?” His voice was harsh and a shade high-pitched, but there was an undeniable fondness in the way he said Pip’s name, “It’s time to go back. Come on.”  
  
Pip pulled away from Butters and a wide smile lit up his face as he turned to face the newcomer, _“Damien, this is my best friend, Leopold.”_  
  
“I know, now come on, the gateway’s going to close soon.”  
  
_“Dear Leo,”_ Pip grabbed both of his hands and held them tenderly, _“I have to leave now. The gateway will only stay open until Kenneth is born again, and the process has already begun. Please be happy, live a good life.”_  
  
Butters leaned forward and gently kissed Pip on the forehead, “I’ll see you again one day Phillip.”  
  
He closed his eyes, a single tear making it’s way down his cheek, and when he opened them again both Phillip and Damien were gone. Smiling gently, a bittersweet feeling in his heart, he sat and watched as the chasm of hellfire slowly started to close. The rocky earth collapsed in on itself, trapping both the souls and the hellfire that contained them in it’s depths once again. With a sigh he stood, brushing the accumulated snow off his clothing, and left the playground.  
  
The soft glow of dawn appeared on the horizon as he walked slowly home, birds starting to wake up and sing in the trees lining the street, welcoming the new day.


End file.
